these pretty, pretty flowers on my skin
by particularly good finder
Summary: "The bruises bother his father. And the blood sends Finn into a rage. Kurt doesn't understand their anger; blood and bruises and broken bones – they're so human. Don't they want Kurt to be human?" Finn/Kurt


_Take a look at my body__. __Look at my hands_  
**There's so much here ****that I don't understand**

Blood doesn't bother Kurt like it once did. He doesn't mind the dark, splattered stains on his shirts or the metallic taste dripping down his throat and leaking from the corners of his mouth. Red has always been his color.

The bruises don't pain him either anymore. The old Kurt would have cried at the sight of the blue smatterings on his perfect face, but now – now he finds it almost beautiful. The strange, almost floral pattern that decorates his cheekbones, his back, his chest, his arms… it's _pretty_.

But the bruises bother his father. And the blood sends Finn into a rage. Kurt doesn't understand their anger; blood and bruises and broken bones – they're so _human_. Don't they want Kurt to be human?

_Contempt loves the silence__; __it thrives in the dark__  
_**With fine winding tendrils ****that strangle the heart**

But the insults – now, _they_ bother Kurt. They remind him that no matter what, he doesn't belong in Lima. He's _unnatural_, he's _wrong_, he's a million things but human. He's a fag, he's a queer, he's anything but okay.

When the insults are hurled in his direction, he chooses to stay quiet – why fight back and have more thrown your way? But he can't ignore them. He's not that strong.

Sometimes he feels like he can't breath, he's so angry. When his chest begins to heave, Mercedes – or Tina or Artie or Quinn or Finn – pushes him down the hallway and into class, hand clasped firmly on his shoulder.

_I'm a slow dying flower__; __frost killing hour_  
**The sweet turning sour and untouchable**

Kurt feels like he's going to fade away. He's not human; just a wraith, a ghost dressed in bright clothes trying to pass as normal. But the bruises, the blood – they may kill him in the end, but at least he'll die human.

Finn doesn't react to this statement well. Kurt wonders if he should have saved this revelation for Mercedes, but he knows she would have blown her top far worse than his almost-stepbrother.

In fact, Finn doesn't blow his top at all. He just sort of half-faints onto the bed next to Kurt, eyes wide and face pale. He tries to steady himself on Kurt's arm, but the boy slides out of reach, eyes on the ground.

But Finn doesn't give up easily. He grabs hold of the slender boy's hand, pulling him close.

_I need__a lullaby__, __a kiss goodnight_  
**The angel sweet****love of my life****; ****I need this**

Their lips meet unexpectedly, and Kurt wants to cry. His bruises throb and his blood courses through his body rapidly and his heart is going crazy. For a second, right before they part, Kurt _feels_ human.

Finn looks scared and worried and happy and Kurt just wants to curl up inside the larger boy and sleep in the warmth and protection of his skin. They kiss again, and again, and again until Kurt's shirt is gone.

A small gasp comes from Finn's mouth, and Kurt looks away. The bruises are prettier on his chest than on his face, darker, with a hint of purple. There are scars, too, snaking across his stomach like vines. Flowers and vines – so beautiful.

But only to Kurt. To Finn, they're ugly. Ugly and horrible and a testament to the hell Kurt's been through. The slender boy pulls their mouths together, desperate to hurt again, to feel human again.

Oh, I need_  
__**The darkness**_

Finn pushes him back against the headboard, tongue tangled inside his warm, wet mouth. Kurt moans as their hips meet, whimpering slightly as Finn pushes against his bruised leg.

It hurts – oh _God_ it hurts – but Kurt pushes back harder, back arching with combination of pleasure and pain. He's never felt so _alive_.

Finn's mouth trails down Kurt's neck, sucking at the tender skin by his collarbone. The small boy bites his tongue in shock, and the taste of blood fills his mouth. Finn's tongue continues down his chest, flicking over the scars and Kurt's body is on _fire_. The injuries and the arousal and the blood drown out his senses, black out his doubts and fears and anguish. He's not a fag, not a queer – he's just Kurt.

_The sweetness_  
**The sadness**

Finn lowers Kurt onto the pillows, capturing his mouth again. His lips are softer, gentler now, the original fervor dissipating. He throws his own shirt to the ground, pressing his flesh to Kurt's – whole on broken, pure on scarred.

Kurt sighs, tangling his hands in the larger boy's short hair. Finn cups Kurt's face in his hands, brown eyes meeting green, and the world stands still.

There are tears on Finn's face, Kurt is anguished to see. He regrets kissing Kurt, he regrets ever _knowing_ the fag, he regrets stooping to that level…

"God, I love you…" Finn whispers, burying his face against the smaller boy's shoulder. Kurt's heart stops, and an alien feeling rushes through his body. It's better than the pain and the blood and the _pretty, pretty _bruises and the arousal and pleasure – it's so warm, seeping under Kurt's skin.

_The weakness_  
**I need this**

"I-I love you too." Is all he can managed before he kisses Finn again. Tears are forming in his eyes now, and for once he doesn't mind being weak. Their teardrops mix together on their cheeks as they strip each other down, till both are naked and beautiful and _so in love_.

Finn lowers himself on top of Kurt, clasping the boy's waist as he thrusts in and out him. The pain and pleasure and the feeling of _love_ cloud Kurt's vision and everything goes white and dizzy and he's _just so alive_.

The larger boy gasps and pants and tears run down his face as he works, back and forth, back and forth. Kurt raises a trembling hand to Finn's face, wiping his cheeks shakily. Finn smiles, and lowers his head for a quick kiss.

Finn thrusts faster and deeper, and Kurt is shaking all over. The larger shouts as he hits a climax, driving into Kurt painfully. The smaller boy screams, thrusting his hips off the bed as Finn's hand guides him over the edge, and they fall in a heap together tangled in the stained sheets.

Kurt curls into Finn's chest, panting and crying and laughing. The tall boy wipes the sweat from his brow and wraps his long arms around Kurt, rubbing circles in his back.

_I've been treated so wrong__ and __I've been treated so long_  
**As if I'm becoming untouchable**

Finn kisses the bruises on Kurt's face, causing them to ache and throb. Kurt leans into the kisses, relishing the feeling. He's alive, _oh so alive_, and human and right and no one can tell him otherwise.

Eyes drooping sleepily, Finn nestles down next to Kurt, humming to himself. This boy is so perfect, so pure and unbroken – what Kurt used to be. And he loves it so much, love _Finn_ so much that he knows that the scars and bruises and blood need to go away. He has to patch up his cracks and tears, repaint his faded color.

The violence won't stop; Kurt knows this. But he can run, he can fight back. He has Finn, and Puck and Matt and Mike as well.

He has to stop letting the other boys beat him. He has to fight. For Finn.

* * *

**Crap ending, I'm sorry. But I worked hard on this one, so review please! **


End file.
